


His Aura

by entzunden (magnetism)



Category: Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: IronShipping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetism/pseuds/entzunden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On my arrival in Sinnoh after many long years, I met the acquaintance of Byron, the gym leader... what is this I sense about him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Aura

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't follow canon at all, wtf 2007 me (mirrored from FFN)

The one thing I counted on, that always faithfully guided me through life, was my intuition. I never planned, never thought too hard. If I were to wake in the morning and possess the inclination to visit my home region just to see if anything had changed, then that was what I would do. There had to be a reason for the idea to come to me, and I would be determined to find it.

That was how I ended up on a cruise to Sinnoh. I like to think my trust in intuition comes from being a lucario trainer ten years and counting. I had my others, many more pokemon by now, but Setum would always be my prize.

The ship docked at Canalave City one mid-morning. Funny how days of lounging around on a boat would make one tired. I attributed my laziness to the gentle rocking of waves. Being of no mind to start wandering through the region on foot, I decided to check into one of Canalave's resorts for a day or two. Sinnoh's diverse port city would be a good place to start exploring, besides.

There were many fancy hotels to choose from, but one building in particular caught my eye. Blame my love of antiques; it was a genuine historical inn named the Old Empoleon. Inside it was dim and filled with the low talking of patrons, mostly older men. Rusted and tarnished weaponry adorned the walls, making this place more like a museum, a tribute to battles from long ago. After gazing at these austere surroundings for several minutes, I booked a room. Then I found myself a booth and settled down, ready to absorb the local culture. Surely the patrons here were as awed by the setting as I was, and perhaps had some stories to tell this curious newcomer.

I hung my jacket and hat on the large iron hook attached to a post above my booth. A waitress, a young and pretty lady, came to take my order. "A coffee for right now," I told her.

"Are you sure? Better get yourself something to eat before the lunch crowd comes in."

"I'll be here all day." I smiled up at her.

She returned the smile warmly, as I knew she would. "Will you, now? Are you staying at the inn?"

"Indeed I am."

"How nice it'll be to see a young and handsome face around here," she said boldly. "These old-timers are our faithful regulars, but not that easy on the eyes."

I chuckled. "Glad to be of service."

"That's my line!" She laughed, a musical sound. I could sense that this personality of hers earned generous tips.

From behind her, a short, grey-haired, ragged-looking man shuffled up to my table, giving me a suspicious look. "You new in these parts?" he asked, leaning a hand on the edge of my table.

"Temporarily," I answered with a raised eyebrow.

He looked me up and down, furrowing his brow. "What is that around yer neck, boy?"

"Ah…" I glanced at the waitress. "It's a very old pendant."

"You some kinda antiques dealer?" he asked in a mocking way.

"No, just a collector," I replied calmly.

"Does it have to collect around yer neck like that? You look like a--"

The waitress, bless her heart, took hold of his arm and led him away. "Were you looking for me? Need me to refresh your drink? Let's check on that." She shot me an apologetic look over her shoulder, and I smiled my many thanks.

I was neither surprised nor offended, really. Canalave _was_ Sinnoh's most diverse city, and I couldn't expect them all to be enlightened or whatever. A sudden yearning for company struck me hard at that moment. I released my lucario from his ball, where he materialized seated beside me. "Sit with me awhile, Setum," I told him softly.

He turned his head slowly to take in the rich sights of the inn, impressed as I was at the solid antique furnishings and noble old weapons adorning the walls. But then his eyes fell on the men around us, and he narrowed them. Many of the patrons were now staring in our direction, making no effort to disguise their disdain. Suddenly the Old Empoleon felt less like ye olde tavern of yore and more like the watering hole of aimless old prospectors, a hangout for them to come and share drinks and tales. I felt extremely out of place – too young, too overdressed, too unfamiliar with the community.

My waitress returned with my coffee, and I was grateful for it, some small thing to occupy me. Suddenly, Setum's head appendages twitched -- a movement so slight that they would normally go unnoticed; I, however, was ever alert to his senses. No longer glaring at the offending locals, his attention had been caught by something much more significant. I touched his shoulder, about to ask what he'd detected.

"Look at that, a lucario!" I heard a voice above me, husky and delighted. It belonged to a somewhat grisly man wearing worn, tattered pants, a dusty brown cape, and a crooked grin. If anyone in this establishment clung to the appearance of an old-time prospector, it was him. However, despite my apprehension, I beamed at him – I couldn't help it after a veiled compliment to my most prized pokemon.

"His name is Setum," I said proudly.

"You a steel trainer?" he asked.

"Ah, no. Fighting is more of my type. I specialize in offense-based tactics. Steel makes for an incredible defense, though." I patted Setum's back gently.

"Mhmm. A lucario has the perfect combination, if you ask me. I know a well-bred steel-type when I see one." He nodded with approval.

"I thank you, good sir," I said with added politeness. This caused him to smile more, which, in turn, made me feel generous. "Have a seat?" I offered. "Tell me of your own well-bred steel-types."

He slid into the booth across from me, elbows on the table and thick fingers interlocked. He was not nearly as old as the other patrons, whose numbers seemed to have increased in the past few minutes -- my waitress was right about the lunch rush. "Not to say that my own pokemon don't have decent combination types," he went on. "Not only do I have steel defense, but there's rock, ground, and psychic, as well. I appreciate a good fighter, though."

"Oh yes," I agreed. "I do love the raw power of fighting-types. It's something I've admired since I was a boy, that strength and form. Must be because I'm lacking in that department." I laughed sheepishly, feeling my cheeks grow warm.

"Nah, I wouldn't say that." He scratched the back of his neck. "So are you passing through town? Think I would've heard about a lucario trainer by now."

I tilted my head, as curious about his last statement as I was his first. "Yes, I only just arrived today from Hoenn. I seem to travel on a whim."

"Mm. Any badges?"

"Gym badges? No, I haven't collected those in a long time."

"That's too bad. A specialist like you would make a great challenger for the guys and me."

I blinked at him. "You're the gym leader!" It came out as an exclamation, a realization. "Please forgive my ignorance!" I clapped my hands together in pleading.

He laughed jovially. "Nothin' to forgive, kiddo! You're new in my city!"

"Ah, but I'm not new to Sinnoh! I grew up here!"

"Well, you're not up to speed on the gym circuit, then. Not that I blame you, we've made a lot of changes in the past year." He scratched his chin, lined with thick stubble of the same burgundy color as his unruly hair. "Guess that makes me a veteran now. Name's Byron, by the way. If you didn't know."

"I'm Riley," I said with relief. From what I understood of gym leaders, they were town celebrities, and idols to pokemon trainers. For a long-time trainer such as myself not to recognize one, especially a veteran, seemed like an insult. Perhaps I was lucky that Byron had a good sense of humor.

"Have you been to Oreburgh?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid not," I said, grateful to change the subject. "There's a great museum there, I know that. With fossil restoration technology?"

"Yup!" His dark eyes twinkled. "Good ol' science, gave me my first pokemon! A bastiodon. Well, he was a shieldon at the time. Cute little thing, too."

I had to chuckle. "I never thought of shieldon as cute."

He thumped a fist on the table, causing both Setum and me to jump. "'Course they are! And when they evolve, they look scary, but they're actually sweet and sensitive. My Galliard is, anyway. Gets it from me, maybe. Pokemon really do resemble their trainers after a few years together!"

I smiled. "Or vice versa. A friend told me recently that she thought of me as a lucario."

"Hmm..." He looked me up and down -- from head to torso, anyway, as I was sitting behind a table. "I can see it. Lithe build, striking appearance, and a fighter's spirit."

"Aheh." I felt a blush creeping across my face again, from this attention to my physique. Parting the fur along Setum's neck, I asked, "So what else do you do, when you're not at the gym?"

" _Fix_ the gym." He slumped backwards with dramatized exhaustion. "Huge multi-storey building with lifts always in use. And I work out -- never mind the workout I get doing repairs! -- and keep tabs on the old mine at Iron Island, and stop in here for a drink now and then, or visit my son in Oreburgh..." He trailed off there with a fond look.

"Your son lives there?"

He grinned, and I could tell that he'd baited me to ask just so he could start bragging. "My boy's the new gym leader! With rock-types. He knows more about rocks than any other gym leader in the country, since he's the foreman at the coal mine _and_ an expert in fossil excavation. And _his_ idea of fun is digging around in the Underground! He loves to uncover hidden treasures."

I grinned back at him. "Sounds like he's quite a geologist. You must be very proud of him."

"Of course! Always had miners in the family, so it's good to see him continue that." Byron sighed heavily. "I miss him, of course. He's my whole world."

I looked at him with sympathy as he scratched his thick hair. "I'm sure he misses you too," I said. "I can tell you're a good father, just from what you've told me."

"Ahahaha, you think so?" His rugged face lit up with sheer delight. "I was pretty much on my own, so... yeah."

"Oh?" My sympathy, as well as my curiosity, piqued. By this point, it seemed that Byron was no ordinary old-fashioned miner. He was immensely interesting to talk to, with such an open personality.

"Mmn." He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. "But enough about me. Tell me, Riley, where are you headed upon your new arrival in Sinnoh?"

I raised an eyebrow. Perhaps he wasn't so open, after all. "Well, that remains to be seen," I said vaguely. "I had thought I would move on in a few days… or perhaps tomorrow." It seemed rude to tell Canalave's pokemon representative that I didn't want to stay in his town after my less-than-warm welcome.

"If you're interested in training, the Iron Island mine is open," said Byron. "Ore's been tapped for years, but wild pokemon live there. I train there myself... so did Roark, when he lived here."

"I see. Maybe I _will_ stick around for a few days and check it out."

He smiled, admiring Setum. My lucario had been listening well, and I noticed his appendages twitching again. "What are you sensing, Setum?" I asked him. He looked up at me, his crimson eyes oddly unreadable.

Byron grunted suddenly. "Gotta get back to the gym," he mumbled, glancing at a clock above the bar.

"I see. Well, perhaps I'll see you at the mine? Training under the guidance of a veteran such as yourself would be an honor."

His downcast face suddenly brightened. "Yeah? Sounds like a plan!" He stood up, brushing back his cape, and held out his hand. "Nice talkin' to you, kid."

"I'm twenty-six, you know," I said with a smirk, shaking his large hand.

He burst out laughing. "Right, right. Sorry 'bout that."

I turned to Setum again as Byron left. "What was it? He's a steel-type master, so he caught your eye?"

He blinked at me, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Maybe because he's the nicest guy in Canalave, huh?" I smirked and sipped my coffee.

Later that day, it occurred to me that being on good terms with the gym leader would be greatly beneficial. The Canalave citizens would come to see me as a respectable trainer rather than some fancily-dressed newcomer, and any glances from strangers would be looks of admiration rather than wariness. Not that I wanted to use Byron's status to benefit my own; I had truly enjoyed our conversation, and looked forward to more.

Therefore, I asked some of the Old Empoleon wait staff what they knew of him, and learned that he came in several evenings a week. He enjoyed a drink only once and awhile. He had been divorced for nearly seventeen years, raising Roark by himself. I also asked what was known about training on Iron Island, but I didn't learn nearly as much.

I left the inn to peruse the marketplace (Canalave has more imports than any city I've seen in my lifetime. Such interesting and beautiful things!) and find a more refined restaurant for dinner. When I returned that evening, my waitress from lunch motioned me over to the bar.

"I'm sorry about earlier, sir," she said. "I hope you weren't offended."

It took me a moment to realize what she meant. "Oh, that old man who pointed out my pendant? Not at all. I'm rather used to it… I kind of pitied him, actually."

"So did I! How can people not notice you're a gentleman of fine taste?" She blushed, which I could see even in the dim light of the bar.

"I thank you," I said gratefully, sliding up onto a stool and removing my hat, resting it on my knee. I fluffed my black hair a little, which she seemed to enjoy watching. I leaned closer and smiled at her; the appreciation felt nice.

"Can I interest you in something?" she asked boldly, smiling back.

"How about a mojito?"

"But of course." She set about to mixing it. "I don't remember the last time anyone ordered something as exotic as this," she said, setting the glass, complete with a wedge of bright green lime, in front of me.

"Mojitos are considered exotic here? Good thing that old guy isn't around now, hmm?" I raised it to her in a toast.

"I shouldn't have let him bother you at all." She wiped the counter, which didn't appear all that dirty, so I suspected it was just an excuse to stay near me.

"Quite alright, don't worry. He was just a foolish old man. In a day or two I'll have erased him from my thoughts. I don't keep unpleasant memories."

She giggled. "That's good, you don't dwell on stuff." Then she looked up, though not at me. "Hello, Byron!" she greeted cheerfully.

I turned around. "Hello again," I said to the gym leader, grinning and lifting my glass.

He gave me a somewhat distant look, grunting, "Uhn." It sounded like a tired salutation.

"What'll you have?" the waitress asked.

He muttered unintelligibly until an answer came out. "Nothin', changed my mind. See ya." Then he spun around and left, cape flapping.

"Wha..." she said, perplexed.

I almost called after him, but he disappeared too quickly. "What's wrong?" I asked the girl.

"I don't know. Maybe he had a bad gym battle?"

I frowned, my sympathies arising again. He'd been in such a good mood at lunch, too. Work always seemed to sour one's disposition, I'd noticed. It was why I never held a job, why I made my way as a professional trainer on the road. I sipped my drink, musing on my choices.

An hour later, I made my way upstairs to my room in a relaxing daze. I unclasped my pendant and lay it on the dresser, placing my hat on top of it. The jacket I tossed into a chair, smiling as it landed draped over the back, where it wouldn't wrinkle. I kicked off my shoes last and flopped down in bed, head resting on a cool pillow. Sprawled out and sunk into the soft mattress, my only thoughts revolved around how tired I was, how comfortable I felt, and how much I loved mojitos.

And somehow, out of nowhere, I realized that if Byron overheard me, he might have thought I was calling him a foolish old man whom I wanted to purge from my memory. But that couldn't be the reason he'd left so abruptly... surely he could tell that I appreciated him talking to me... Unfortunately, sleep claimed me before I could rationalize any further.

When I awoke in the morning, my distressing thoughts picked up right where they had left off: _I upset Byron. I didn't clarify myself to him._ I took it as a sign of truth that this was the first thing that came to me, so I got up and quickly showered and dressed. I didn't even stop for breakfast -- to put both our minds at ease, I had to find him.

His gym lay on the other side of the canal. I had to hold my hat steady, lest the ocean wind carry it off, as I crossed the bridge. This view, surrounded by the sparkling ocean, was gorgeous, but I admired it only briefly as I hurried.

An athletically-built young woman with a high ponytail met me at the gym's door. An azumarill followed her, which I found an interesting choice for the steel-type gym. "I'm sorry, but the gym leader is out sick this morning," she said authoritatively. "You'll have to check back tomorrow for a match."

"I'm not here for a badge," I said. Tired of clutching my hat to secure it from the wind, I whipped it off. "But I am looking for Byron. I need to talk to him."

Her eyes widened slightly. Perhaps it was from my dramatic hat removal and fluttering hair, or perhaps because of my bold declaration. Looking back, I mused on how the scene must have played to her. _"Señorita, please--" He paused to whisk off his hat, holding it earnestly over his heart-- "let me talk to the gym leader. There is something urgent I must tell him."_

"He really isn't feeling well... he called us from his apartment," she told me, her voice softening. "Um... I can tell him you stopped by, if you're a friend..." A faint smile pulled at the edge of her lips.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair to pull it back from my eyes. "I don't know about that," I said, more to myself than to her. "Will you tell him that Riley came by? And that I hope he feels better." I started to turn around.

"Wait!" she exclaimed. "Um... this isn't the first time he's called off the morning. He might be here later today, if you want to stop by again."

"Thank you, I shall." I re-donned my hat and tipped it to her. When I passed the gym's sign, I paused to read it. _Canalave City Gym. Leader: Byron. "The Man with the Steel Body!"_ It made me smile, an image of him laughing as he ordered that slogan.

I sought out breakfast, then returned to the marketplace afterwards, browsing slowly to kill time. I even bought something -- if I had been ill, it would be just the thing to bring me back to health (or, at the very least, lift my spirits). Afterwards, I paid a visit to the huge library. I was the type to be easily lost in books (especially those detailing certain periods of history), so it didn't take much to occupy me for another couple of hours.

No one greeted me at the gym door this time, so I watched as Byron's apprentices -- all men, save for the azumarill trainer -- rushed around and called orders to one another. It appeared that they were repairing the gym's damaged interior; constant pokemon battles _would_ tend to deteriorate the inside of a building. I'd never considered it before.

The ponytailed girl noticed me and rushed to the entrance. "I called him to see how he was doing," she told me. From behind her, I couldn't help noticing the other trainers giving me curious glances. Maybe they thought I was here for her? "And he said he was feeling well enough to come in and supervise the repairs. But I gave him your message, and then he changed his mind. Says he's not leaving his apartment." She bit her lip, looking guilty.

I frowned and sighed. "Well, thank you for delivering my message, at any rate."

"I'm really sorry. I feel like I made things worse."

"Of course not. You only did what I asked." I smiled at her, pondering. "Can you do me another favor?"

"What's that?"

"Can you tell me where he lives?"

Byron's apartment building had an intercom by the door. I stared at the button next to his name, holding my breath, then slowly reached out and pushed it. "Yeah?" came his voice, gruff and tired.

"It's Riley," I said after a second's hesitation. "I really want to talk to you, okay?" At his pause, I added, "Breanna gave me your address, but I asked for it, so don't blame her."

He sighed heavily. "All right, come on up." The speaker buzzed and I heard the front door unlock, so I stepped inside, hurrying up the stairs to Byron's apartment.

He opened his door to reveal himself in a white undershirt, dark grey sweatpants that may have once been black, and fuzzy red slippers. These clothes were rumpled, and his burgundy hair looked even more matted, if possible. The dark circles under his eyes indicated that he hadn't slept much.

And I stood rooted to the spot, unsure of what to say.

His dark eyes, shadowed by thick brows, bore into mine. "Er... how are you feeling?" I asked stupidly, scratching the back of my neck.

"Well, my head hurts, an' I feel like I'm gonna throw up," he said, his voice a little slurred.

He'd drunk himself into illness? I recalled how someone at the Old Empoleon had said that Byron didn't drink much, that he came in mainly to eat and socialize. Had he really been so upset that he returned home to drown his sorrows?

"Look, you don't have t'feel sorry for me," he said. I guess I'd stood there too long looking sympathetic. "I _am_ a foolish old man, there's no denying that."

"I wasn't even talking about you!" I exclaimed. "There was this little, grey-haired codger sneering at me because of my pendant! I'll have the waitress vouch for me, she was right there!"

"Hmph." He smirked sardonically. "Don't change nothin', does it? I still am, whether you meant me or not. It was just the slap in the face I needed."

"What do you mean?"

He blinked. "You really don' know, do you?"

"Know _what?_ " I asked, exasperated. "All _I_ know is that I wanted to keep talking with you about pokemon and Iron Island and your son. What's so foolish about that?"

"Because I'm--" He was interrupted by the ringing phone. He stared from it to me a couple of times, sighed, and went to answer it. "'Lo. Hey, boy."

He paced around his apartment slowly, and I guessed from his end of the conversation that it was his son who had called. I folded my arms across my chest, trying to decipher his earlier riddles. Did he think he was out of line, sitting down at a newcomer's table and bragging about his gym and his son? I had invited him, though, since he'd complimented Setum so nicely.

I looked around the apartment. It appeared thoroughly normal, and well-furnished with a brown leather sofa and matching armchair. A small kitchen lay directly across from the door on the other side of the room, the cleanest area by far. I wondered if he used it much – myself, I love to travel, but I also love to cook, and I miss doing so when I'm away.

I also noticed a mantle on the wall, covered with photo frames of all sizes. Hesitantly, I watched Byron shuffle to the kitchen, still talking in a low voice into the cordless phone. Would he mind if I looked more closely? He couldn't expect me to just stand in the open doorway... but surely he wouldn't want me to leave so abruptly, either.

I made up my mind and walked over to the photos. All of them showed the same boy at various ages, from infancy to adult. He appeared in different scenes: digging in the sand at the beach, pushing a small dump truck filled with rocks, sitting with his arms around a shieldon (a very cute pokemon indeed!), riding on the back of an onix. In most of the photos, he wore glasses. One of them, which looked to be the most recent, showed a young man no older than twenty standing by a tall building's sign. _Oreburgh City Gym. Leader: Roark. "Call me Roark the Rock!"_ That made me grin. Like father, like son.

He didn't bear much resemblance to Byron at all, save for the hair color. I looked at the photos again to see if he took after his mother, but there were no women in any of them.

"Yes, I took some aspirin like you said," I heard him say right behind me. I jumped, noticing he was still on the phone. He looked at me curiously; no doubt he had noticed me studying his pictures. "I'll be fine, Roarkie, you don't have to worry."

A loud but muffled protest came from the phone that even I could hear. Byron chuckled. "No, you stay put. I'll be fine tomorrow. No, you have a job to do. I'll come see you pretty soon."

I stared at the mantle, trying to look like I wasn't eavesdropping. He didn't move away from me, though, and I was about to return to the doorway when he said, "Yes, son, I will. Alright. Love you too." Then he pressed a button to disconnect, tossing the phone lightly onto the couch and smiling fondly.

"You two seem close," I commented.

"Yeah. He's my world, after all."

"That's very sweet." I glanced at the gallery of Roark. He seemed like a caring person as well. He'd have to be, brought up with Byron's boundless love.

Who would leave such a man? Who wouldn't want to raise a cute boy with him?

"Oh!" A realization struck me. "I got you a present." I reached inside my jacket, pulling my purchase from the pocket. "Although, it won't go with a hangover... but, hopefully, you'll enjoy it later." I handed the gold foil-wrapped parcel to him. "Imported dark chocolate. It's one of my favorites... I picked it up after Breanna told me you weren't feeling well. She didn't tell me _why_ , or else I would have chosen something else."

He took it, dumbfounded. "You... din' have to," he mumbled.

"I really do apologize." Feeling dramatic, I swept off my hat and bowed slightly. "Please allow me to compensate this disaster by treating you to the drink we didn't get to share? Oh..." I stood back upright. "Actually, a drink doesn't sound too great now, does it? Perhaps dinner?"

"I..." He fidgeted with the chocolate. "Really? You sure?"

"I offered, didn't I?" I smiled at him. "Tomorrow? You should listen to Roark and take it easy tonight."

"Y... yeah. Tomorrow."

My smile broadened into a grin, watching this outgoing gym leader flush like a shy schoolboy. "It's a date, then," I said.

"Ah... is it?" His eyes widened.

"Isn't it?" I put my hat back on, adjusting the brim. "I'll leave you to your rest now, though. Unless I can do anything else?" My eyes fell on the kitchen's sparse counter. "Make some tea or soup?"

"No, s'okay." Byron's cheeks grew pinker. "Tomorrow's dinner."

I nodded. "All right. But if you think of anything else, just call the inn and ask for me."

He nodded back. "Thank you," he mumbled awkwardly.

"My pleasure." I headed for the door, which had been open the whole time. "Should I come back here tomorrow, or...?"

"Nah, I'll just meet you at the Empoleon."

"Really? There are a lot of nice restaurants in town."

"It's my favorite. You don't mind, do you?"

I smiled. "Of course not. I look forward to it."

I left, feeling much better that we'd made amends. I thought back to the previous day, to Setum's faint reaction at Byron's presence. Lucario are masters of aura, that distinct air around each individual. I still didn't know what exactly Setum had sensed about Byron, but perhaps I would soon find out for myself.


End file.
